The Pursuit of Percipient

Just what my doctor might have ordered – an adventure of my very own. How else could I have interpreted that gesture, the hand drawn across the throat, menacing and made in my direction. They were out to get me. Nothing for it but a headlong dash across Europe, hounds snapping at my heels. No sooner were they shaken off than the assassins, ruthless after dark throat slitters, silent, stealthy Asiatics out to get me and no sooner evaded than overboard I go. Nights bobbing on the Mediterranean followed by a leading role in the Sicilian tuna slaughter fest and a case of mistaken identity, papal intervention and the mafia outwitted at every turn. Just when I was looking forward to my mid-life crisis. Just after I had invested in a new pair of carpet slippers.